A/N: This is actually sort of a spin-off from the introduction I wrote for "Letting Go". Found the scrap of paper I scribbled it on and had a flash of inspiration. Hope you guys will like it, though it is a little depressing too.
How does it feel when you realise the importance of something only when you have lost it, and find that you cannot regain it, because it is too late? The damage has been done, and you would have given anything to undo it, but as the saying goes, "Time and tide waits for no man."
And so you are powerless, condemned and resigned to watch, and regret. You know crying will not change anything, but the tears come anyway. You hope that they will go some way towards healing your wounds, but the salt only makes them more painful. You know you will never really heal, the guilt will haunt you for always, and yet life must go on, so you try to lose yourself in the monotony, attempting to forget, endeavouring to forgive yourself—and failing miserably
There is nothing you can do, nothing that can ease the pain. No one understands you, no one seems to care.
Is there any reason left for you to live? It is a sin to end one's life, and a coward's way out. But you have sunk so low the light has gone far beyond your reach. Nothing can save you now.
Locked in an ever-descending spiral, unable to escape, you are losing yourself, It is a very slow process, but you can feel it. Every day that passes, a little of you dies, and this will go on, and on, until there is no more left of you.
They see you walking and laughing, eating and breathing. But that is not truly you. It is an illusion, a lie, a deception.
You have become a mere shell, a mockery of the human condition.
